


Terrible Chances

by EveningStarcatcher



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bad angels, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), reference to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22703275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningStarcatcher/pseuds/EveningStarcatcher
Summary: For megzseattlePart of the GOLoveDay Art ExchangeAfter saving the world, Aziraphale and Crowley have grown closer, but Crowley is afraid of what that means for the angel.Title from the song "Nevertheless I'm in Love With You"(Somehow, I know at a glance, the terrible chances I'm takingFine at the start, then left with a heart that is breaking)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	Terrible Chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [megzseattle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megzseattle/gifts).

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice cut through the demon’s thoughts.

They were dining at the Ritz on a cold, grey Valentine’s Day afternoon. Aziraphale had been chattering on about something and Crowey, chin in hand, had drifted off, daydreaming of how it would feel to pull the angel close, to hold him, to be held by those sturdy arms. He wondered if he would smell different with his nose pressed against his skin, if he would feel soft or sturdy under his lips, how it would feel to be pressed up against his chest and feel his heartbeat and the rumble of his laughter.

“My dear, are you alright?” Azirphale’s brows were furrowed, his fork set across his dessert plate, his focus completely on the distracted demon.

“M’fine. Distracted, sorry. What were you saying?” Crowley brushed it off, scolding himself for letting his mind wander to the forbidden places he had sworn off for 6,000 years.

“Nothing important, I assure you,” Aziraphale smiled kindly across the table at him. “Would you like to share what’s on your mind?”

“S’really nothing,” Crowley poured them each more wine.

“You do know you can trust me, don’t you?” Aziraphale gazed at him with concern and apology etched into the lines on his face.

Crowley smiled fondly. “I know, angel.”

Azirphale shot him a suspicious look and lifted his fork to his mouth, savoring the deep flavors of the chocolate soufflé. 

“But you’d rather not discuss it?” The angel said softly, his eyes on his plate, a strange look creeping over his features.

“There’s nothing to discuss!” Crowley insisted. “Really, absolutely nothing.”

“Isn’t there?” Aziraphale set his fork down with unnecessary force.

“No!” Crowley groaned, earning looks from nearby diners.

“Absolutely nothing you want to discuss with me today at this restaurant?” Aziraphale prodded, a blush spreading across his cheeks, his lips in a tight line.

“Nothing special, just the usual stuff.” Crowey knew he was missing something, but he didn’t know what it was. He felt like he was about to be submerged under a tidal wave, but he didn’t have the resources to save himself, so he was just treading water.

“Nothing special. I see,” Aziraphale pushed himself away from the table and stood, tossing his napkin to the table.

“You haven’t finished your dessert.” Crowley gestured, hoping to convince Aziraphale to sit back down.

“I’m not hungry,” he retorted and strode from the dining room.

“Angel, wait!” Crowley waved a hand to pay the bill and send the leftovers to the bookshop, then jogged after his companion, who was already out of the restaurant.

Crowley burst out of the doors, looking frantically for the familiar halo of pale curls. He found Aziraphale standing by the Bentley, hands wringing in front of his stomach, a pinched look on his face. The grey sky cast a shadow over his soft features, turning them harsh and cold.

“Please take me home.” His voice was as cold as the wind that blew, making Crowley shudder.

“Of course,” Crowley replied curtly.

The ride back to the bookshop was strained and silent. Aziraphale kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat, fidgeting. He adjusted his bow tie, wrung his hands, smoothed his waistcoat, unable to keep still. When they arrived at the shop muttered a quick “thank you” and hopped out of the car.

Crowley stared after him for a moment, unsure what to do, then jumped out and followed him into the shop. He had to fix this.

“Angel, what’s going on?” He immediately headed to the backroom, knowing that’s where he would find the disgruntled angel.

“What’s going on?” Aziraphale scoffed, pouring a glass of wine for himself. “You take me out to lunch at the Ritz, today of all days, and you act like it doesn’t mean anything!” He lifted the glass to his lips and drained it in one go, bending over to refill it.

“Is it supposed to mean something?” Crowley was getting very hot here, the conversation veering in a direction he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to go in. This was uncharted territory.

“Isn’t it?” Aziraphale was edging on hysterical. “We’ve known each other for 6,000 years! We prevented the apocalypse together! I thought, well, I’d hoped that maybe…” his eyes focused on the dark red liquid in his glass. “Well, I thought things might be different now!”

“Different?” Crowley echoed dumbly.

“Things are different, aren’t they, my dear? I think we’ve gotten closer since the world didn’t end, or was I imagining it?” His blue eyes were laser focused on Crowley, who shook his head, unable to form words.

“I suppose I was hoping that… well, you obviously don’t feel the same. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Azirpahale turned away from Crowley.

“Wait, what? What am I missing?” Crowley crossed the space between them, turning the angel around to face him.

“You still don’t see it? You can’t feel it?” Aziraphales eyes were puffy and wet.

“Feel what? Angel, I’m sorry, but I’m lost. What do you want to change?” His heart was pounding. Aziraphale’s eyes were boring holes into his soul, searching for something - was it love? Was that what the angel wanted? Was he asking for Crowley to open the gates and let the flood of emotion out? He didn’t know if he could refuse him, he had never been good at denying the angel, but he had to. He couldn’t tempt him that way.

“Crowley, I know you’re a demon, but you’re not an idiot. Can’t you feel it? It’s everywhere, all around us, don’t you sense it?” Azirphale had grabbed fistfuls of Crowley’s jacket, pulling him closer, pleading. “Crowley, don’t you know by now that I love you?”

“You what???” Crowley breathed out quickly, sounding harsher than he anticipated.

“You have to know. Don’t you know? I’ve loved you for so long, my dear, but I was too afraid to tell you, too afraid to love you and risk losing you. Too afraid to disobey Heaven and put you in danger. But we don’t have to worry about that anymore!” He smiled earnestly, pushing himself onto his tiptoes. “I love you, Crowley.”

He leaned into the demon, who was standing frozen, unable to process what was happening. He had dreamt of this for eternity. It was finally happening, but it couldn’t. He longed to give in, to wrap his arms around Aziraphale and kiss him, to find the answers to the questions he hated himself for asking - what does he feel like, what does he taste like, how soft are those beautiful lips?

Aziraphale brushed his lips lightly against Crowley’s cheek, sending shivers down both of their spines. Aziraphale repeated the action on the other cheek, then moved to center himself, hovering just a breath from Crowley’s lips. He waited, inviting Crowley to close the distance. He wanted to be kissed. He wanted  _ Crowley _ .

The demon panicked and shoved Aziraphale away from him, sending them both stumbling backwards.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice was small and weak, betrayed, hurt, heartbroken. He clutched at his chest, his tears spilling over.

“I-I can’t,” Crowley stuttered, moving backwards and bumping into everything in his path. He kicked books and knocked into the couch, steadying himself on anything he could reach.

“Why?” Aziraphale was folding in on himself.

“I- I just can’t.” Crowley couldn’t find the words to explain it all. How he couldn’t be the reason the angel falls, would never tempt him, would never hurt him. 

He ran out of the bookshop, leaving Aziraphale to crumple to the floor, sobbing.

“Crowley, why?” he cried out.

“Stupid demon. Could have explained,” Crowley scolded himself. He had ended up at St. James Park, sitting at their usual bench, hunched over his knees, muttering. He threw bread at the ducks rather than to them, creating a frenzy of angry and confused wildlife. “Sure, just tell him ‘You know I’ve been in love with you since Eden and I’ve fantasized about kissing you a million times in a million ways, but no thanks. I don’t want to be responsible for you falling, so let’s just stay friends, shall we? No problem. Just another 6,000 years of repressed feelings, no big deal, right? Just tickety-boo!’” 

He let out a deep scream and chucked the last of the bread at the ducks who had finally had enough of this behavior and fled, leaving behind chunks of bread.

Crowley stood and shoved his hands in his pockets, stomping down the path.

“What kind of jerk would just leave without a word? Reject him without explanation and leave? He might never want to see me again. Shouldn’t ever want to see me again. Would make things easier. No,” he slowed for a moment, “not easier. Safer, but not better. Definitely worse.” He resumed his quick pace through the park, heading back toward the Bentley. “Doesn’t matter. Selfish to run. You have to explain it.” 

He drove back to the bookshop in record time and dashed to the door. His hand was on the knob, ready to throw it open, but stopped, recognizing the strange energy coming from inside. He pressed his ear to the door and heard voices, many voices. Aziraphale’s was higher than usual, distressed, the others were calm. Too calm. 

“Angels,” Crowey hissed. He squatted down to peek through the window below the shade and saw four figures standing over a heap on the floor.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley cried and flung the doors open. “GET AWAY FROM HIM!” He bellowed.

“The demon Crowley, we wondered when you’d be arriving.” Gabriel turned to him, flashing his most polite smile. “We were just paying a little visit to former principality Aziraphale.” He gestured to the floor where the poor angel lay.

“Former?” Crowley faltered. Had he failed? Had he hurt the angel in vain, causing him to fall despite his best efforts? Had he let the angel go through the fall alone?

“Well, he doesn’t work for us anymore, doesn’t work for anyone,” Gabriel shrugged, hardly invested, yet inconvenienced by this.

“He hasn’t fallen, if that’s what you’re asking,” Uriel interjected matter-of-factly.

“I don’t think he will,” Michael added, looking down at Aziraphale, grimacing in disappointment. “Would have already done it if he was going to.”

“There are other ways to punish him,” Sandalphon was standing directly above Aziraphale, his teeth bared in a horrific smile, hands ready to strike the angel, though it was clear that he’d already done enough damage.

“And what does the demon have to say?” Gabriel’s focus was intense, but Crowley refused to shift under it, standing his ground, ready to defend the angel by any means necessary.

“I say get away from him.” Crowley growled between his teeth.

“Or what? You think you can take on four angels?” Gabriel laughed, quick and loud.

“You may have avoided execution in Hell, but you won’t fare so well here,” Michael sneered.

“Accept your fate,” Uriel advises. “Leave and he will be spared.”

“Spared?” It was Crowley’s turn to laugh. “Since when does Heaven spare anyone? You tried to destroy him with Hellfire!” He felt the rage flaming up inside him, a strange power coursing through his veins, hot and molten. “You think I’m going to just leave him with you? Just let you take him?”

“It would be best,” Uriel responded, looking once again at the heap of cream and tartan.

“You have no idea what’s best!” Crowley roared, widening his stance to steady himself, preparing to fight. “I won’t let you have him! He doesn’t belong to you anymore! Now, last chance: Get. Out.” He gestured to the door in offering.

Gabriel laughed in Crowley’s face. Sandalphon followed suit. Michael and Uriel exchanged uncomfortable glances.

“Fine. The hard way then,” Crowley’s face broke into a wide grin as he snapped fingers and felt the strange power surge and take control. He gave in to the tingling in his veins, feeling the heat seep into every cell, sweeping over him from the inside out. A faint orange glow was emanating from his limbs and his eyes were turning blood red. His night-black wings burst out with a flutter and a single, powerful beat, sending the angels staggering backwards. He snapped his fingers and held his hands out to reveal two spheres of Hellfire dancing in his palms. He grinned maniacally and scanned the room, taking in each terrified face before him.

“Sorry it had to be like this, Gabey, but I can’t have you bothering Aziraphale anymore.” He threw one ball of flame at Gabriel, who just barely ducked in time, falling to the floor and rolling away. “As for you, you’re not laying another finger on him, you  _ basssstard _ !” He turned on Sandalphon and lunged forward, flinging fire at him. The flame caught Sandalphon’s shoulder and he screamed in pain, tearing off his overcoat, jumping to the side to cower behind Michael and Uriel.

“Can all demons do that?” Michael asked, eyes wide in fear and awe.

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Crowley snapped two more flames into his hands, intending to advance on Michael and Uriel, but he sensed a shift behind him. He spun around and caught Gabriel by the throat, holding him aloft and striding forward until the angel was trapped between a bookshelf and Crowley’s strong grip. Of course, the archangel didn’t need to breathe, but he was unaccustomed to a human corporation, so he sputtered and grabbed at Crowley’s arm, begging to be released.

“I’ll say it once more - get out. And if any of you come back here or contact Aziraphale in any way, I won’t hesitate to remove you permanently.” Crowley brought his free hand to Gabriel’s face, the heat from the Hellfire singeing the tips of his hair. “Do you accept my terms?”

Gabriel glared at him in response. Crowley tightened his grip and brought the fire closer to Gabriel’s eyes, earning him a frantic nod. 

Crowley released him, shifting to grab at the collar of the crisp white shirt and throwing Gabriel to the floor at the other angels’ feet. “Go. Now!” He commanded and in a brief flash of blinding light they were gone.

Crowey stood, panting. His limbs suddenly felt very heavy. Where the Hellfire had flowed in power, he now felt leaden and exhausted. He dropped to his knees, one hand clutching at his head, which was pounding from the exertion, then he heard a small sound.

“Aziraphale!” He cried and clambered over to the angel, shifting him carefully to lay on the demon’s lap. “Are you okay?” Crowley’s hands supported Aziraphale’s neck and head as he lay it against his legs, then looked for injuries, fluttering over his chest, arms, stomach.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped, his eyes growing wide with panic. “They’re here. The angels. Get out before they see you!” He was trying to push himself up, to hide Crowley. Even after the demon had deserted him, left him broken-hearted, he still cared for him, tried to protect him.

“It’s okay, angel. They’re gone,” Crowley soothed, pulling Aziraphale gently into his arms.

“Gone?” Azirpahale repeated, incredulously.

“Yeah, got rid of ‘em. Shouldn’t be bothering you anymore.” Crowley held him tight. At last, allowed to wrap his arms around Aziraphale and breathe him in.

“By yourself? There were four of them!” Azirpahale’s voice indicated shock, but he closed his eyes and relaxed into Crowley’s chest.

“Yeah. What did they do to you?”

“Well, I was in quite a bad way before they arrived. They told me that I deserved to be hurt, I deserved to be deserted, deserved to die for what I did, for my crimes against Heaven.” He shivered against Crowley. “They promised me forgiveness if I repented of my sins and returned to Heaven. Permanently. I refused and they hit me. Well, Sandalphon hit me. Gabriel didn’t want to get his hands dirty.” Azirphale frowned. “He made Michael and Uriel hold me so I couldn’t escape or fight back.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, angel.” Crowey cooed, shifting out from under Aziraphale and snapping a bowl of warm water and a cloth into existence. He dipped the cloth into the water and twisted it, watching as the excess liquid fell back into the bowl.

He raised the cloth to Aziraphale’s forehead and dabbed lightly at the cut there. “S’not deep. Should be fine in no time.” He wiped the tear stains from his cheeks and set the cloth in the bowl. “I’m going to need to remove your shirt.” Crowley’s fingers hovered above the buttons until Aziraphale nodded his consent.

Crowley moved quickly, but cautiously, carefully helping the angel out of his waistcoat, then his shirt, laying them carefully over a stack of books that lay nearby.

There were bruises forming over his ribs and stomach, but no blood. He gently ran the cloth over the skin anyway, hoping the warm water would soothe the pain. There were scratches around Azirpahale’s wrists where Michael and Uriel’s nails had dug in to keep him still. He had struggled, fought back, while Crowley was moping in the park. 

“Were they watching you? Us? Waiting for me to leave you alone?” Crowley inquired softly, pressing the cloth against one wrist.

“It’s very likely,” Aziraphale nodded.

“I’m sorry I left.”

“What happened? Please talk to me.” Azirpahale took Crowley’s chin in his hand and tiled his head up to face him. “I told you I love you and you ran away. If you don’t feel the same, you could have just said so. I’d understand.” His eyes were clear blue, sincere and forgiving.

“Oh, angel. It’s not that,” Crowley sagged under the weight of this confession. “I was afraid of losing you.”

“Losing me? I had just admitted my feelings for you!” Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up in amusement.

“I know. That’s what scared me. I thought… I thought that I’d tempted you. I thought you’d fall because of me.” Crowley could feel tears streaming down his cheeks, dropping his head to stare into his lap. “I thought that if I never told you, never let you know how I felt, that you’d be safe. Never thought you’d be the one to make the first move.” He chuckled sadly.

“Dear, I won’t fall.” Azirpahale took Crowley’s hands in his.

“How do you know?”

“How could a love this pure be a sin?” Aziraphale beamed at him and Crowley was overwhelmed by the waves of love crashing down over him. It was dizzying and disorienting and everything he had been longing for for 6,000 years. He felt torn apart and put together by this love, it was destruction and new life, it emptied him into the angel and was filled to overflowing in return.

“Are you sure?” He choked out, sobs rising in his chest.

“My dear Crowley, I’m very sure. Are you?” Azirpahale asked shyly.

“Oh, shit! I didn’t say it, did I? You know, don’t you? Since Eden! Oh, angel, since you told me you gave away your stupid sword. Aziraphale,” he stared into the eyes of the being he loved, “I love you, too!”

Aziraphale threw his arms around Crowley’s neck and squeezed. Crowley wrapped him in his arms and buried his head in the angel’s shoulder.

“I love you, angel. I never thought I’d be able to tell you. Never dreamed that you’d feel the same.”

“I love you, too, Crowley.” Aziraphale pulled back to caress Crowley’s cheek. “Will you kiss me now?” The blush was creeping back onto his cheeks.

“I’ll kiss you forever if you want, angel!” Crowley wrapped a hand around the back of Azirpahale’s neck and guided him in.

When their lips met it felt like lightning - uncontrollable and hot and beautiful. They moved slowly at first, unsure. This was unfamiliar, and yet it felt inevitable, like they’d been hurtling towards this moment for 6,000 years. Their hands roamed, exploring, finally able to touch the skin they’d been dreaming about for millennium. The sharp planes of Crowley’s shoulders, the soft skin of Aziraphale’s stomach, the long line of Crowley’s neck, the gentle curve of the small of Aziraphale’s back. It was intoxicating. It felt like jumping into a pool on a hot day - sudden and cool, but powerful and overwhelming at the same time. They broke apart, coming to the surface for air, panting and grinning like fools. 

“My love,”’Aziraphale whispered, his forehead leaning against Crowley’s.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Crowley chuckled, diving back into the cool waters of Aziraphale’s kiss.


End file.
